


my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

by spacelabrathor



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Sex, like a little bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:49:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28586733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacelabrathor/pseuds/spacelabrathor
Summary: Thor makes a home and a life for his family out on the rugged frontier of the Old West. The winters are unforgiving but he keeps them safe and warm. At night, their cabin glows with firelight and the warmth of their company. A small slice of their life together.
Relationships: Thor (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s), Thor (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 20
Kudos: 148





	my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

The night is dark, the wind whipping and bitter and unforgiving, as Thor lowers his chin against a frigid gale and makes his way forward. Trudging through knee-deep snow and squinting against the flurry of snowflakes that skirt around him on the wind, his arm outstretched to dimly light his path with the faint, struggle flicker of the flame inside the lantern gripped in his hand.

He makes his way to the shed, though the way is slow. For each step he takes, he must keep his balance steady against the turbulent wind, snow rising up past his knees and nearly to his hips in spots where the snow has settled in heavy drifts. His cold hands land on the wooden handle of the small door tucked away on the far side of the shed, and it takes all of his strength and weight against it until it finally gives way and his body follows gravity and his momentum into the darkness within. He shoves the door closed behind him, the screaming wind cut abruptly off, and the sound of his breathing fills the darkened air. 

He lifts the lantern overhead as he leans against the door, catching his breath. The light catches movement, slow and lumbering, and then big, gentle eyes reflect the flickering flame. Bonny, the milk cow. Stepping over to him curiously, slow from the slumber he no doubt roused her from. 

He pushes himself from the wall after a moment and reaches out to touch the back of his hand against her nose so as not to startle her as he moves past her in the dark. His boots scuff on the straw underfoot, thick, aromatic beds of it laid down in preparation for the darkest, coldest nights, and when he makes it to the far corner of the little shed, he finds the chickens bedded down in it. Their feathers reflecting light from the lantern as he counts them as best he can, to make sure that all made it inside before the worst of the storm hit. 

Satisfied, he moves again, feeling more than seeing Bonny trailing slowly behind him. He nearly trips over the pair of goats, Her and Henry, who startle and bleat furiously as they spring to their feet, and he mumbles some sort of apology as he moves past them to the water trough on the other side of the shed. 

The air in the shed is heavy with heat, almost damp from the moisture in the straw underfoot and the body heat from all the animals bedded down for the coming storm. The sound of the wind is muffled, a distant howling that creaks the boards and shingles Thor laid with his own hands years ago, as the storm rages on outside. 

When he reaches the wall, he raises the lantern and finds that the trough, as expected, has frozen over. For the third time that day, he bends low and raps his elbows against the ice. Quick, concussive blows that splinter the ice and allow the cold water below to rise freely up. Something bumps him from behind as he stands back to his full height and Bonny comes up beside him. Pushing him out of the way with her considerable bulk as she lowers her head for a fresh drink, letting out a heaving sigh as she does. 

He pulls down a few fresh flakes of hay from the loft overhead next, tipping up on his toes to reach and turning his face from the torrent of dust that comes down with them. Shaking the loose pieces from his face as he pulls the flakes apart in his hands and tosses them to the ground as Her and Henry approach with their perpetual gluttonous interest. 

He gives the dark interior of the shed one more look over, turning slow with the lantern held out before him, before he drags a palm down his face to pull the stray hay pieces from his beard on an exhale and makes his way back to the side door. 

A hard yank on the handle and the screaming of the wind cuts in, piercing and swirling an immediate gust of frigid air and snow into the warm sanctuary of the shed. He steps through the door quickly, ducking low to clear the frame, and throws his weight against it once more until the door sticks stubbornly shut. 

The storm has gained in intensity, the snow whipping in the air so heavy and thick in the pitch black that Thor can’t see a foot in front of his face. The lantern is all but useless now, the flame going weak in the cruel twist of the wind, and Thor lowers his chin against the cold and simply goes. Trudging forward through wet snow, dragging each leg forward through the drifts with considerable effort as his body brings him where he needs to go, more based on memory than whatever bits of his sight he still has. 

It’s a minute or two before his heavy booted foot thunks against something solid, and when he brings his hands up, he feels rough timber beneath his palms. He lets out a grateful grunt that’s whisked away on the wind as he keeps his hand flat on the solid wall and moves along it. Using it as a guide as he moves blind through the unforgiving scream of the blizzard. 

It’s another minute until he finds that he is searching for, the recessed outline of a door, and with a great heave of his weight, it gives beneath him and he steps inside. Slamming the door shut behind him and leaning back against it to ensure it doesn’t catch on the wind and wrench open again, the storm rattling the door beneath the press of his shoulder blades. 

It’s warm inside. Blissfully, achingly warm, the room shadowed but illuminated with a roaring fire in the hearth, and Thor can’t stop himself from looking. Searching the shadows that cast long across the wooden floor, until his eyes land on her, there. Standing beside the crib Thor carved out by hand, bent over it and touching gently at the children no doubt sleeping within. 

The wind outside howls but is muffled to a distant hum within the confines of the cabin. Double insulated with layers of stacked logs and stuffed tight with lichen and moss. Keeping the worst of the cold out and the best of the heat in. 

Thor shakes himself like a dog, frowning as he looks down and sees the great piles of snow he trudged inside with him, already going soft and watery across the wooden planked floor from the heated air. His breath starts to return to him as he begins the process of disrobing, shaking each article of clothing he pulls from his body to dislodge at least some of the snow, and he feels his skin prickle with feeling as the ambient heat in the air finally cuts through the numbness brought on by the merciless cold outside. 

He receives help soon, the sound of soft feet on the wooden floor before hands reach out to take the fur-lined hat and heavy coat and linen shirt from his hands. She shakes the coat once more for good measure before laying it over her arm and turning her eyes up to his face. He watches emotion play across her expression at what she sees, a gentling, soft thing, and then she lifts her hands to his face. Dusting snow from his beard and running her thumbs across the red, chapped skin of his cheeks before curling them gently around his ears. 

“Your feet’ll get wet,” he murmurs, hearing more than seeing cold water drip from his jacket down to the floor. 

She chews softly on the inside of her cheek, he can see the little indent there as she thinks and looks up at him. The light from the fire dances across her face, the soft oval apple of her cheeks and the plush fill of her lips, and something in his chest strikes like flint at the beauty of her. Dressed for sleep and pressed up against him, snow melting down onto her socks. 

She does this sometimes. Gets lost in looking at him, her mind traveling faster than her mouth can articulate. Sometimes it’s when he hauls home a stag he managed to shoot with his long rifle, fat from a summer grazing on their planted corn and carrying more meat than their family has ever seen in one place. Sometimes it’s when he wakes before the sun to begin the day’s work, pulled against her in the dark of their bed until her warm breath washes over his face. Often, it’s times like now, when he comes in from the dark and the cold from chores and can still hear the wind echoing in his ears. 

He’d asked her once, what she was thinking when she did this. When she held him still and searched his face with her heart open and soft in her eyes, and she’d thought a moment before telling him that god had blessed her the day she had met him. 

He hasn’t asked her again. Not needing to. Knowing, as her palms warm his wind-burned ears, what the soft ache in her expression means and feeling a corresponding pulse behind his ribs in echoing response. 

He touches her elbow and the corner of her mouth lifts in a bashful smile. Caught, her eyes fluttering closed on a soft huff of laughter, and she takes a step back from him. Shaking out his jacket once more to loose any lingering snow before bringing it over to the fire and laying it out on a line strung up there to dry. 

He toes off his boots next, stepping away from the door to avoid the puddles, and then he works the waist of his pants and pushes them down too. Shaking the snow out of them before moving across the cabin to meet her there where the fire is throwing off great waves of crackling heat. 

He stands beside her to lay the rest of his clothes on the line, basking in the heat that bakes at his back and the thick of his thighs. Finally feeling the lingering chill from outside beginning to dissipate. 

She moves around him slowly, touching at different parts of his long johns to make sure they stayed dry and he doesn’t need a change, fussing over him a little, and he stands and lets her until she’s satisfied that he is dry and warm and there, with her, at last. 

She leans into his space when she finally stands back to full height, and his hands find the soft curve of her waist. Pulling her against his bare chest, pressing his nose against the soft hair at her temple. 

They stand there in the flickering firelight and breathe together for a time. Eyes falling closed, wrapped in each other’s arms as the weight of the day slowly sheds with each shared breath. He begins to sway gently, just shifting weight between his feet, and she goes with him. Resting her palms against his chest and tilting her face up to his. 

He presses a kiss to her cheek and she lets out a quiet sigh. “Is all well?” she murmurs, voice a little thick in the air between them. Tired. Asking about the animals. 

He nods, his beard rubbing softly against her cheek. “All is well. They’ll keep til morning.” 

“Did the rooster make it in?” she asks, and he can’t stop the huff that falls from his lips. 

He’d seen it, nestled deep in the bedding with the hens. He makes a non-committal sound instead, just to see her head dart up from his chest. 

“Thor,” she says, her brow twisting on her face, and then he can’t keep up the charade and his mouth twists in a smile. She thumps her fist softly on his chest and groans quietly. 

“If you hate the bird so much, we can roast him,” she mutters, pressing her face against his chest so he can’t see her smile. 

Thor huffs again softly, continuing to rock her back and forth. “And face your ire?” he says. “I’d rather face the rooster.” 

“He’s never attacked _me_ ,” she says into the hair dusted over his chest. 

Thor nods again, his nose nudging against her cheek. “And the day he does will be his last on this earth.” He has scars from that damn bird. 

He spreads his palm across her lower back, pressing her close. “He was in with the hens,” he murmurs finally, even though he knows she knows. 

She nods against his chest, interlacing her fingers with his, and they rock quietly together. 

Maintaining a homestead and a family between the two of them is back-breaking work and moments like this are the little quiet their life affords them. Thor wakes daily before the sun and she follows not far behind, and both are in perpetual motion until well after sundown most days. It makes Thor’s body ache, but in that good hurt sort of way. 

He tilts his head to look down at her, his back prickling with heat from the fire behind him. “How do you feel?” he asks. His hand drifts to her center. Presses gently against the soft swell of her belly between them where his child is growing. 

She lifts her shoulders in a gentle shrug and he knows that means she was sick for most of the day. Nights are better, though, and when she looks up at him in the dim light, he sees some weariness there, but also her strength. She smiles. “Good, now,” she says. “A little tired.” 

He nods. She’d been on her feet all day with the little ones just as he had spent the entire day patching a hole in the shingles of the shed. 

“Let’s rest, then,” he says, pressing a kiss to her temple and nudging her towards the bed pressed in the corner of the cabin. 

She lets out a contented sigh, her hands pulsing gently around his forearms, and then goes. Leaving the last chores of the night to him as she makes her way to the bed and starts to turn the bedding down. 

Thor turns to the fire roaring in the hearth and takes stock. Looking at the color of the embers before determining the need for more wood. He kneels down before it, sweat starting to prickle under his arms from the intensity of the heat, and reaches beside the hearth to pull out several dry logs. Reaching into the flames to stack them with care, enough so that the fire will burn the whole night through. Wiping ash on his hands against his long johns when he feels satisfied, staying for a moment to watch the flame darken and grow, before pushing himself to his feet. 

The crib is there near the fire, far enough away to be safe from any sparking embers but close enough to keep the occupants warm through the night. Thor stops beside it and feels his heart constrict at the sight of his daughters curled up against each other, their cheeks rosy with sleep and hair curled and wild on the bedding below them. 

He reaches down to touch gently against their cheeks and hears his oldest let out a quiet sigh through parted lips. He lingers a moment longer, letting a curl of hair spool around his finger, before he comes back to himself. 

When he makes his way to the bed, he finds her stretching out atop the bedding. Soft and round and dressed in a cream colored slip that glows against the dark bedding below. He settles down beside her with care, gentle of her always but especially like this. The bed creaks beneath his weight and he lets out an easy breath as he feels her shift in closer to him in the way that she always does. Seeking the warmth and comfort and weight of him as he sinks into the mattress. 

They lay in silence for a few minutes, their breathing slowing and evening out together as the fire crackles and casts long shadows throughout the room. The wind howls and rattles at the door and the window panes, a distant, violent symphony. Thor lets his eyes close as his muscles ache faintly and the effort of the day comes over him. 

He’s roused when fingers touch at his side. Warm and gentle and familiar. 

He turns towards her on the bed and she curls against his chest, coming in close and radiating heat. Her skin is soft where it touches his.

He hears her exhale, just a whisper, but there’s a tremble in it, and his eyes are opening before he even hears her murmur his name. Barely audible over the sounds of the fire and the wind howling outside. 

His face finds hers in the dark and their noses nudge together, and he feels her breath wash over his face. Her hands come up between them and touch at his chest, and she barely gets another utterance of his name from her lips before he’s tilting her face to his and pressing his mouth to hers. 

They breathe together once more, their lips pressed together, and Thor can’t stop his hand from dropping down to touch at her belly once more. Rucking up her slip and sliding his palm over the warm skin there. Over his child growing there, and he feels his cock stir at the feeling of it. 

When they part, her breathing is heavier, just a touch but enough that he knows, he _knows_. He kisses her again, more urgently this time, as he moves her to her back and moves to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of her jaw as she tilts her head to the side to give him room. His hands roam over her, pressing against the bump of her belly and then drifting upwards. Pushing her slip up over her breasts and letting out a gritted breath at the sight of her breasts in the dim light. Full and tender, nipples dark and swollen. His cock aches between his legs. Filling fast and hot, in a rush. 

He ducks his head on a quiet groan and the touch of his mouth to a nipple has her back arching against him on a soft gasp. 

“Gentle,” she urges breathlessly, her hands coming to tangle in his hair as he lets his tongue travel over the soft skin beneath his lips. Plump and swollen and bursting with life as he sucks gently and draws a soft moan from her lips. 

He stays there, moving his face between her breasts and tasting with hot presses of his tongue as she gasps softly at the ceiling and murmurs his name on a breaking sigh. 

His hand on her belly pulses once, a tender touch over the swell there, and then drifts down. His fingers carding through the soft curls at the apex of her thighs and then pressing downward still until his fingertips glide through the warm, wet slick of her sex. 

She moans then, her fingers flexing in his hair as he lets his fingertips drag against her there. Slowly, letting sparks light up her veins with each gentle pass of his fingers against where she’s quivering and wet for him. 

He draws back from her breasts so he can see her face when his thumb brushes softly over the nub at the crest of her sex. She lurches beneath him, a moan falling from her lips that is rich and too loud for the quiet of the room that she tries to silence with teeth on her lower lip only after it has sounded out. 

He kisses her cheek and then her mouth finds his, desperate and seeking and open, as he begins to rub his thumb across that sweet little spot. Again and again. Dipping low to gather more slick against it every few passes, feeling how she shudders and trembles against him at the touch. 

Her thighs drop open as she draws back from him, her head dropping down to the pillow below her, and he can’t take his eyes from her as he draws her closer and closer with each gentle press of his thumb against where she’s heated and soaked for him. 

Seeing her like this is intoxicating. Makes his mind thicken and whirl at the sight of her giving herself over to him. To her spread out beneath him, warm and wet and soft for him. To her opening up to the press of his hand and the taste of his mouth, her mouth dropping open around whispered begs and pleas, his name falling sweetly from her lips as he makes her pulse race and her blood sing in her veins. 

Seeing her this way makes something surge within him. Something that aches in near painful intensity behind his ribs. Something that makes him want to consume her whole. Makes him want to open himself and draw her in so that they may never be parted. Makes him want to snarl and bend low over her and protect her. 

He sees the signs in her and feels his cock ache at the sight of them. Sees the part of her lips and hears the hitch in her breath as it comes to her more rapidly. Her chest rising and falling beneath him as her hips begin to twitch against his hand. Her eyes go a little distant, her fingers clutching in the bedding beneath her, and he feels his own breathing go a little strained as he sees a flush break across her chest. 

His thumb moves across her in a steady, firm press, and watches as her face contorts with the sudden rush of her pleasure. Her back arching off the bed, mouth falling open on a soundless moan, until something within her winds tight and holds, and holds, and holds, and then breaks. 

He grunts from between gritted teeth, unable to stop the hard throb in his cock as her body collapses to the bed and she moans his name, sounding broken. Her thighs tremble against Thor’s arm and he presses his hand down against her soaking sex to feel the sharp, angry pulse of her there, her breath stolen from her as she rides the hard waves of her pleasure against him. 

Her chest heaves, sweat beading up on the skin there, and Thor can’t stop himself from bending low and opening his mouth over it. Turning his head to suck her breast into his mouth once more as he moves over her and settles between the spread of her thick thighs. 

He goes to her as if drawn, his upper body easing down atop hers and pressing his mouth to hers in a searing kiss. A hot mash of teeth and tongue and lips that has her crying for him as her thighs clamp around his hips and her hands reach down to roughly shove at the waist of his long johns. He gets her lower lip between his teeth and bites, grunting as he feels her body lurch beneath him, the hard peaks of her nipples catching feverishly on the hair dusting over his chest.

His hand joins hers, pushing down at the garment until his cock springs free. Leaking and heated and hard, his balls full and aching as he rucks her thighs up over his own and guides himself to her. 

He can’t help himself from resting his free hand over the swell of her belly as his other guides the head of his cock to where her sex is still throbbing out the last pulses of her pleasure. His mouth drops open, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and when her dark eyes meet his, he presses in. 

It knocks the breath from him. Feeling the tight, hot vice of her sex pulsing around his cock as he slides into her. The throb last throbs of her pleasure drawing him deeper and deeper, filling her up full and tight until his hips nestle against the cradle of hers. 

Her hand finds his. Covers it over her belly, and he withdraws. Pulling back and then punching back into her with a rut of his hips that has her head tipping back against the bedding once more on a wounded sound. His hands fall to either side of her hips, gripping and then easing against the softness of her there, his mind distantly scalding at him to be gentle with her, as his hips begin to go and he gives himself over to the tight, hot clutch of her around his cock. 

Silence descends over the cabin, the only sound the slapping of skin and the ragged pull of their shared breaths as his body takes control. As his eyes nearly roll back into his head at the sight of his wife beneath him. Soft and round and growing heavy with his child, her nipples hard and dark, her breasts rocking with each rut of his hips as she takes and takes and takes what he gives her. Her body opening to him and drawing him in. Her sex fever hot and gripping tight at the hard, jostling press of his cock. Her head tilted back in delirious pleasure as he makes room within her again and again. Feeling his cock leak hot inside of her, desperate for release. 

With some effort, she forces her eyes open when she hears a hitch in his breathing. She pulls at his shoulders, whining for him, and he goes to her. Letting his upper body cover hers once more, their noses bumping and mouths tasting against each other as their bodies begin to move in sync with each other. Knowing each other this way as they know themselves, finding themselves in the other at the hot slide of skin against skin and the shared, rasping breaths gasped into the heated space between them. 

Her hand tangles in his hair, knots and pulls hard, and then he’s gritting his teeth and stilling over her. His body going rigid as his cock swells in the tight clutch of her sex and bursts. Filling her with hot, pulsing lashes of his spend that make her eyelids flutter as her lips part on breathless gasps. 

His entire body aches with it, with the strength of his release as his balls draw tight, as his cock lurches and spits and fills her to the brim with his spend. 

They stay there for a long moment. His body trembles as he holds himself still, and then her fingers loosen in his hair and he lets out a breath. Leaning down over her to press his mouth to hers, his hands releasing her waist and coming up to cup her jaw gently. Tilting her face to his as she pants softly beneath him and murmurs to him. Soft, incoherent words, pressed into the heated, slick press of his lips. 

They trade kisses back and forth, breathless and trembling, and he remains over her. In her, as his cock begins to soften and his mind begins to slowly return to him. 

He touches at her with a gentling hand, his brows drawing down as he checks her. Touching at where he was rough with her, very nearly frowning until she laughs softly, a quiet huff, and brings his seeking hand up over her chest and presses it against the healthy, hard beat of her heart. She holds it there as she lets her head roll lazily against the bedding beneath her. Riding out the last of it. Feeling the fever hot slick his spend coated heavy into her womb. 

He looks down at her, awed, and takes her in. The flush over her chest and the sweat glistening in the hollow of her throat. The full ache of her breasts and the swell of her belly between them. 

Thor groans softly and lowers himself to her once more. Pressing his mouth to ever part of her that he can reach. Slow, as his breathing begins to follow suit. Letting his nose drag over her skin as he presses gentle kisses to her cheeks and jaw. To her lips and down the line of her throat. To both breasts and the space between and then lower, until his hands frame her belly and he presses a reverent, soft kiss there. 

When he finally withdraws from her, he feels the loss of it in his bones. He guides her slip back down over her body and lets himself settle heavily beside her. Turned on his side and drawing her near. Craving the press of her skin to his still, something clenching and then soothing behind his ribs when she turns to him and presses her palm to the scratch of his beard. Touching her mouth to his once more, a whisper of a caress, and then letting her nose press against the plane of his chest as her breath returns slowly to her. 

He feels her body loosen beside him as her heartbeat slows and evens, her hand finding his and lacing their fingers together, and he brings his other hand to her hair. Touching at it gently, letting his fingers card through it. Nudging his nose to her temple again, feeling something ache again in his chest when she sighs in response and settles even deeper against his body. Their baby pressed safely between them. 

She needs to rest, and he holds her while sleep slowly draws her under. Blinking slowly as he looks down on her face, dim firelight dancing across the curve of her cheek, and watches as her lips part in gentle slumber. 

He allows himself to settle against the bed then. When he’s sure she’s found peace. He leaves his arm to drape over her side to keep her close as he lets his head rest at last against the pillow. Feeling the gentle rhythm of her breath washing over his face and feeling that warm, painful clutch in his chest again that he recognizes as nothing other than utter, stupefying adoration for her. 

The fire crackles on, throwing waves of comforting heat through the cabin, as it will until the sun rises in the morning. Outside, the wind continues to howl and the storm rages on. Battering the cabin with snow and frigid air that swirls and wraps around the timbered walls and thatched roof. Unable to penetrate the walls, nor disturb the warmth and peace found within. 


End file.
